


thoughts of a dying man

by heyimal_ex



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergent, Character Study, Gen, Lance has depression, Langst, Overdose, Suicide, literally just a vent, so it’s validity is up to you, this is all from lances point of view (3rd person)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:10:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyimal_ex/pseuds/heyimal_ex
Summary: lance threw back the pills, settled into the bathtub, and began to think.





	thoughts of a dying man

as lance watched out his window, he wondered how a world so beautiful could hurt so much to inhabit. 

each star reminded him of another pain, of another misery. everywhere he turned, he felt like only negatives were added to his back, with no light or brightness to help him. he once found that brightness in keith, in their bickering and domestic fights - but now all of that was just a painful reminder of how much he wasn’t wanted. keiths words weren’t a challenge for more anymore, they were just sharp, digging into his skin as far as they could go. 

whenever he looked into the mirror, he saw arrows of all sorts. they came out of his back, out of his arms, out of his legs and head and feet and hands - everywhere but his face, because wet skin is often hard to stick to. 

lance, as ironic as it was (with his impeccable swimming skills) felt as though he was drowning. he couldn’t remember the first time he felt alive, and, as he took a quick glance to the empty pill bottle laying on his left, he supposed he would never really feel alive again. 

as he felt the weight begin to settle in his bones, he’s shakily lifted one of his hands, turning it over in front of his eyes. small scars littered the flesh - times he fucked up, times his team didn’t cover him. he was always the forgotten one in battle - somehow, even when he was flanked with soldiers left and right, one of his team mates was screaming at him to do better, do better, do better -

he often wondered if anything would really ever be “good enough” for them. 

at first, he suspected he was just over reacting, simply twisting a story into a victimizing and unhealthy role. but then he stepped back, analyzed the actions of those around him, and in a single moment, it hit him how truly unneeded he was. 

no one knew that he died. allura seemed to have completely forgotten, and the rest of the team never asked about the small shakes following that battle, the jumpiness and the twitches. he wouldn’t be surprised if no one noticed. 

his eyelids began to feel heavy. a hand fell over the bathtub, his head lolling to the side so he was looking out the window again. 

he wished he could’ve felt some of the universes beauty in his lifetime. he supposed be probably did, but either didn’t notice, or was too stubborn to see the brightness. whatever had been there at some point was gone now, though, and lance saw the exact same amount of darkness when his eyes were open then he did when they were closed. his fingers instinctively clenched around themselves as a sharp pain range through him. 

no going back now. even if he forced himself to throw up, the toxic substances had sunk their way into his blood. there was no ridding of them now, it was just a game of time. 

in the distance, he heard someone calling his name, but his brain was too muddled. 

he left letters for everyone. each team member, some friends from home, and each and every single member of his family. he hoped the paladins would get home safely and do him the honor of giving the letters to their respective owners. he knew shiro wouldn’t let them not, no matter how hard he was on lance. 

his clock was ticking and, as he stared out the window for the final time, he found himself rather content with his demise. he’d rather go down at his own hands than at those of some enemy, and at least he was relatively peaceful here. he had a pretty view, regardless of how much it hurt to see, and the water was still warm against his side, so he was at least comfy. 

someone was definitely yelling his name now, but he didn’t have a voice to respond with anyways. with a grunt, he realized he wouldn’t have any last words - but last words were only for respectable people, and respectable people don’t go out with a whimper. 

his fingers twitched. his eyes closed. he let out a deep sigh, and his body fell still. 

space continued to pass by through his window.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a total vent piece. it’s currently 2:11 AM and i have to get up at 6 AM tomorrow. this was not read over or revised, so there’s definitely mistakes i’ll have to fix later.


End file.
